


if little by little you stop loving me

by sarahyyy



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amnesia, Angst, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 08:46:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5327936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahyyy/pseuds/sarahyyy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras’ palms are sweaty, his heart is beating faster. “What did you remember about me?” he asks. </p><p>Grantaire doesn’t say anything for a short moment, but then he raises his fingers to his own collarbone. “It looked like a birthmark.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	if little by little you stop loving me

“Not now, Combeferre. I’m in the middle of-” Enjolras starts to say, only it isn’t Combeferre at his door, it’s Grantaire. 

“Hi,” Grantaire says, and flashes him the tiniest of smiles. It makes Enjolras’ heart ache a little. “Sorry, I know you’re busy, but can we talk? I won’t take up too much of your time, I promise.”

Enjolras should say no, he has the word at the tip of his tongue, but when he opens his mouth, it is only to say, “Of course.”

He holds the door open for Grantaire, and lets Grantaire in, gesturing to the couches and telling him to take a seat; Grantaire does, gingerly, and Enjolras tries not to read too much into the fact that it’s Grantaire’s usual seat he’s in.

“Do you want coffee?” he asks. He almost adds that he’s still got Grantaire’s favourite brew in the pantry, but catches himself before he does. 

Grantaire shakes his head. “Will you sit down for a moment? I’ve got a few questions I’d like to ask.”

Enjolras takes the seat opposite Grantaire. “How have you been?”

Grantaire smiles, mirthless. “I’ve been trying to piece my life together from what I remember, and there isn’t really much to work on, so yeah, it’s going about as well as you can imagine,” he tells Enjolras, and then sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Sorry. I’m just… It’s been tough, and I’ve been having trouble sleeping.”

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras says, and means it. “You said you have questions?” 

He knows from Combeferre that Grantaire’s been visiting everyone, trying to learn more about himself from them; he’s anticipated this visit, in a way. He doesn’t necessarily know what he’s going to tell Grantaire yet. He knows he should have planned for this, but he reasoned with himself that he’d know what to say when the time came. Well, it’s time now, and he still doesn’t really know what to say.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard,” Grantaire says, “but I’ve been, I don’t know, getting these flashbacks and stuff.”

Enjolras feels himself stiffen, and forces himself to relax. 

“There isn’t really any kind of order to the way I’m getting things back, but Joly reckons that it’s a good sign that I’m at least starting to remember some things.” Grantaire rubs at his neck. “I’m sort of trying to put a timeline together of the years I lost, and uh, I got these flashbacks of you. I wasn’t sure if it’d be okay to ask anyone else about it, because the general vibe you give off is that you sort of value your privacy? I think? I’m not sure. But yeah, that’s sort of why I’m here.”

Enjolras’ palms are sweaty, his heart is beating faster. “What did you remember about me?” he asks. 

Grantaire doesn’t say anything for a short moment, but then he raises his fingers to his own collarbone. “It looked like a birthmark.”

Enjolras swallows, and when Grantaire continues to look at him expectantly, he tugs his t-shirt to one side to show Grantaire the mark on his collarbone. 

Grantaire draws in a sharp breath. “I remember really liking it,” he offers quietly. 

“Yeah, you did,” Enjolras tells him. 

“Will you tell me what happened to us?” Grantaire asks, leaning forwards. “I get the feeling that we aren’t really close now, but in the flashbacks…” he trails off, and shakes his head a little. “Did we have a bad breakup?”

Enjolras lets out a noise of indignation at that, he can’t help himself. 

Grantaire’s lips quirk up. “No?” he checks. “I talked to Marius yesterday. He let it slip that you visited me every day when I was in the hospital.” 

Enjolras doesn’t look at him.

“You stopped after I woke up, though, and you haven’t been over to visit me at home, like pretty much everyone else has done. I thought it was a pretty good guess that you didn’t like me. Until the flashbacks. Until yesterday,” Grantaire says. He runs his fingers through his hair, the way Enjolras knows he only does when he’s nervous. “Now it sort of looks like you still lo- Still care for me. Was the breakup my fault?”

“No,” Enjolras says, fierce. _Love_ , Grantaire’d almost said; he wouldn’t have been wrong. 

Grantaire is quiet for a long moment. “Was it my idea, then?”

Enjolras shakes his head. 

“Enjolras,” Grantaire says, and there is frustration in his voice now, “you’re the one who knows what exactly happened, help me out here a little, won’t you?”

“It wasn’t anyone’s fault,” Enjolras says quietly, because technically, that isn’t a lie. “And it wasn’t anyone’s idea.”

Grantaire blinks. “So it just happened?”

Enjolras doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, doesn’t even dare breathe. He hopes that Grantaire would take his silence as acquiescence and move on, but Grantaire doesn’t, of course he doesn’t. Grantaire’s always been extremely adept at picking out Enjolras’ lies, and it seems that the loss of his memories hasn’t affected that. 

“Or maybe,” Grantaire begins, and it’s obvious from the way that Grantaire’s eyes go sharp and narrow, from the way his shoulders stiffen, that Grantaire already knows. “Maybe it didn’t happen at all.” He blinks, and then lets out an incredulous laugh. “Enjolras, are we still together?”

“Grantaire, I-”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Grantaire asks. “Were you ever planning to tell me? Or… Fuck, did the amnesia just completely fall into your plan? No hassle of a breakup if I can’t fucking remember I have a boyfriend, right?”

“ _Grantaire_ ,” Enjolras snaps. “That’s _not_ it.”

“Then why?” Grantaire asks. “Why would you let me do this alone?”

“Because I was scared!” Enjolras snaps. 

Grantaire laughs. “Scared?” he echoes. “You weren’t the one who woke up with no memories of your life. _I_ was scared. And you were happy to let me go through that alone.”

“You weren’t alone,” Enjolras tries to reason, knowing that it’s a weak excuse at best. 

“I might as well have been,” Grantaire shoots back. He scrubs a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair to the others. Everyone’s been great. They’ve all been really trying. I’ve just always felt like something was missing, and I couldn’t really tell what it was until I remembered you, remembered _us_.”

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras says. “What I did was selfish. And _wrong_. And I shouldn’t have done it, but when Combeferre told me that you didn’t remember, I just- I had this thought that without the benefit of any knowledge of the history between us, you’d find yourself…disappointed.” He chances a look up at Grantaire, and finds him spotting an incredulous look. Enjolras looks away quickly, unable to hold Grantaire’s gaze. “I know myself well, Grantaire. I know the sort of first impression I give. I didn’t want to be judged and found wanting.”

Grantaire is quiet for a long moment. “Is that the sort of person I’ve become? Quick to come to conclusions about people I’ve just met?”

“I don’t think you liked me when we first met,” Enjolras confesses. “It took us almost two years to become friends.”

Grantaire frowns a little at Enjolras’ words. “How long have we been together?”

Enjolras swallows. “It’s been awhile.”

The next question takes longer to come. “And we were happy together?” 

“Very,” Enjolras breathes. 

“And the others?” Grantaire asks. “Do they know about us?”

Enjolras nods. 

A silver of hurt shines in Grantaire’s eyes, a quick darting flash. Grantaire’s always been extremely good at keeping his feelings to himself, but Enjolras likes to think that he’s gotten better at reading Grantaire too. 

He ignores the crack in Grantaire’s voice when he says, “And they were okay with you lying to me?”

“Courfeyrac hasn’t spoken to me since the day you woke up,” Enjolras tells him. “They’re all angry at me. Rightfully so.”

“Rightfully so,” Grantaire echoes. And then he stands slowly. “I think I’ve heard enough for tonight.”

Enjolras gets up on his feet. “Will you forgive me?”

“I’m not sure,” Grantaire tells him, making his way to the door. And then, “I think you’re right. About me not liking you when we first met.”

The words are meant to hurt, and they do; Grantaire’s always been good at that too.

Grantaire’s hand is already on the doorknob when Enjolras says, “Will you wait one moment, please?” 

He makes his way quickly to his bedroom, not waiting for Grantaire’s answer, but trusting that he’ll stay, and plucks a CD out of the player, fitting it back to its case, the cover of which —a portrait of Enjolras, supine, eyes closed in slumber— was hand-drawn by Grantaire. It is easily one of Enjolras’ most prized possessions. 

Grantaire’s still by the door when he gets back outside, and Enjolras passes the CD to him. 

“You said you were having trouble sleeping,” he explains. “You made that for me. To help when I was having the same problem. We’ve always fallen asleep to that.”

Grantaire stares at the case, at the drawing of Enjolras, and Enjolras can see the way his lips part, can hear the sharp breath he takes. He stands there, unmoving, for a long while, and then he looks up at Enjolras, closes the distance between them, and presses his lips to Enjolras’, chaste. 

Enjolras feels every tremble of Grantaire’s lips against his. 

“That, I think,” Grantaire whispers when he pulls away. “ _That’s_ what I’ve always fallen asleep to,” he tells Enjolras before he turns and leaves Enjolras’ apartment. 

Enjolras’ gaze doesn’t leave the door until long after Grantaire is gone.

**Author's Note:**

> SHHH. I know what you're going to say, so, preemptively: imagine they get back together after this? :D
> 
> Title is from Neruda's _If You Forget Me_.
> 
> I'm [here on Tumblr](http://sarah-yyy.tumblr.com), come say hi!


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